


Whatever it takes

by Iconoclast



Series: Cute boys gone wild [2]
Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Crying, Dacryphilia, Dubious Consent, Face-Fucking, Fetish Clothing, Implied Murder, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kinktober 2019, Las Vegas, M/M, Mirror Sex, Money, Pining, Sex Club, Spanking, Underage Drug Use, Underage Prostitution, Underage Sex, implied Matt/Mello, mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-10-29 20:41:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20802647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iconoclast/pseuds/Iconoclast
Summary: Some people don't have a name.Some names may have fatal consequences.By lucky casualties, Mello meets the leader of the most powerful mafia syndicate of the West US. The dynamics to get his attention are harder than he thought, but in the end he could gain a powerful ally.





	Whatever it takes

**Author's Note:**

> Following the Deathnotetober prompt "name" and the Kinktober prompts spanking / mirror sex / dacryphilia
> 
> please check the tags before reading
> 
> \---
> 
> this one-shot can be read as a stand alone piece or as part of the Cute boys gone wild series.

He was sitting on the black velvet throne placed in the centre of the stage, his leather clad fingers ran sensually over the barbed whip. Loud electro-industrial music was blasting from the speakers, the crowd seemed to be mesmerised. He licked his chocolate flavoured lips and smirked slightly while watching some of them adoring him. Their name didn’t matter. His name didn’t matter either. He was _ The Nameless Angel _ and everyone loved him, or better, loved his appearance on that stage. Nothing more and nothing less. Nobody cared about a name behind a pretty face. 

One of them, an ugly short balding daddy, touched his leather boot, he kicked straight in his face and the guy seemed pleased about it. He wiped his bleeding lip on the sleeve of his elegant designer jacket, then reached for the wallet in the back pocket of his trousers and produced a fifty dollar bill. The man extended his arm to hand him the bill but the blonde’s icy eyes pointed to his feet. The daddy guy obeyed and threw the money in front his feet, but the blonde on the throne had already directed his attention somewhere else. 

“Pick me,” the semi-bald guy begged him. It was a week or two he was hanging out at the Insomnia. Every goddamn night. 

“Sasha,” one of the strippers approached the blonde from behind and whispered in his ear. “Myla wants you.”

Aleksandr ‘Sasha’ Vasiliev never existed, it was just a name, a person he had decided to be since _ Mihael Keehl _ had ceased existing many years ago. When he had left Wammy’s, he had no identity, no name, no documents. Nothing. 

Mello huffed and got up, some of them gaped as they were finally able to admire his long legs. He bent to pick up the money he had earned that night and left the stage, walking towards the control room. He kicked the door open and marched in, took off the military side cap and threw it on the couch. 

“What?”

Myla was sitting at the desk and watching the surveillance screens. “See this guy?” She tapped with a pen on one of the screens.

Mello snatched a cigarette from Myla’s. Marlboro Reds, Matt’s favourites. His stomach writhed, as always when he thought of the ginger boy. Mello didn’t need to look at the screen, he knew exactly who Myla meant. He had seen the tall bald guy looking at him from the corner of the bar. He was watching him for an hour or longer, and didn’t come any closer. That guy didn’t seem someone who wanted to hire a dom. At all.

“I’m not gonna fuck that old daddy!” Mello extinguished the cigarette in the crystal-glass ashtray. “I’m not a whore.” Well, not anymore, but Myla didn’t need to know that detail about his past. It had been disgusting and he was over it now, he earned his life from selling his services as dom, there was no need to have sex with his clients. He was there on his throne, dressed in a tight latex uniform, and people seemed to be satisfied just by looking at him.

“I don’t care,” Myla lit up a cigarette as well and drank a shot of vodka. “Do you know who he is?”

“Do I look I care?” 

“You better do,” the red-headed mid-age woman had always been quite friendly to him, she had helped him with his career, why wanted she to sell him off like this? Of course for money, Mello brushed a strand of blonde hair out of his face. Everyone had a price and they were all just nameless mercenaries. “This is Brian Bass, and he owns nearly all Las Vegas.” Mello wanted to snap back but Myla raised her hand, signalising him to keep shut. “Also this club,” she turned around and faced him. “You don’t want to fuck him? You’re fired.”

_ Kurva _, Mello thought and was just ready to tell Myla to fuck off, he’ll find something else. But he also started browsing through all the information he had meticulously stored in his memory, because that bloody name wasn't new to him. He put his hands on his hips and nibbled on his lower lip while focusing.

Brian Bass was one of the alias names of Rod Ross, the head of a mafia group who was taking over the entire western part of the US. He was a man with many, many parts, a powerful criminal who worked from the underground and held over the CIA and the feds. He was the man Mello was looking for since months, he finally had the chance to get close to him. Rod Ross was most probably not even that man’s real name. Such a pity Mello hadn’t the ability to read a person’s real name. It would be so much easier for him.

“Fine then,” Mello played the humble card and crossed his arms. 

Mello was waiting in the small room where he usually gave private sessions to his clients. Only dim light was shining in the black and red furnished room. The boy stood in front of the mirror in the tiny adjacent bathroom, fixed the dark make-up around his icy eyes and brushed the blonde bob. He huffed, his tongue ran over his dry, cracked lips. Of course, he was nervous and a bit concerned, that Rod looked either like he had a mini dick or like he had a fucking Panzerfaust between his legs. Mello feared the latter.

Nervously, he cut a line of cocaine and snorted it, right before he heard a knock at the door.

"Yes?" Mello answered and filled a glass with vodka, then turned around to face his visitor.

He was bigger than Mello thought, the glass almost slipped from his hand as Rod towered over him. The blonde was wearing ten centimetre platform boots and still, he had to raise his eyes to look at him. He briefly studied the man. Rod was dressed in a light grey suit and a dark shirt, his attire looked very expensive, also his manly fragrance smelled luxurious. Rod didn't look like those average pimps who dressed like parrots, his style was neat and simple, and every fibre of this man demanded respect. This was a man Mello wanted, needed as his ally. Mello touched the rosary cross that was hidden under a thick layer of latex, sent a quick and silent prayer to Mary. 

"Tequila," the man ordered while undoing his silk tie.

“I don’t have any,” Mello answered calmly, even if he felt quite nervous and intimidated by the tall Mafioso. Rod’s eyes were very small, and glanced cruel into the world. Mello couldn’t tell which exact colour they were.

“Whisky then.”

Mello put his glass down and filled a second one with whisky, then served it to him. He was scared, of course he was, but he was pretending to be bold. He kept eye contact with Rod as he took the glass from his gloved hand.

"How old are you, kid?" Rod took a sip from his drink. "You're not twenty-one. You're not even eighteen."

"My ID says I am twenty-two." Mello shrugged and drank another bit of vodka. 

"You look like you just pissed your pants." Rod chuckled evilly and set the emptied glass on the small table. "Don't big league with me, kid. If you do as I say, you'll get a nice extra," Rod patted Mello’s cheek.

Mello nodded and watched Rod taking off his clothes. The man said a few more things but Mello wasn’t listening, his mind was already alienating. He didn’t want to fuck him. He wanted to disappear.

"Your wannabe uniform has a zipper or do I have to rip it?" Rod chuckled, without clothes he looked even more intimidating. "It looks expensive, I don’t wanna ruin it."

"If I may… recommend my best skill," Mello tried to remain as calm as possible after he had taken a quick glimpse at Rod's cock. "Is giving head, sir." 

"Go ahead then." Mello rummaged through the drawer of the small table and fished a condom. “You’re not clean?” Rod lit up a cigarette.

“Dunno,” Mello opened the envelope with his teeth.

It was not a blowjob Mello was giving Rod, but Rod was literally skull-fucking him. The blonde had started using his mouth to put the condom on his shaft, then licking and sucking him, but soon Rod fisted his blonde hair and thrust his massive erection deep into Mello’s oral cavity. Mello did his best to suppress his gag reflex each time the tip of Rod’s cock hit the back of his throat. He also kept eye contact with his client, even if his sight was blurred because of the tears welling up in his eyes. 

Rod shifted his look from the young lad to the full-length mirror they were placed in front of. He wasn’t very pretentious when it came to sex, he liked it hard, if possible in front of a mirror, and was just nuts if his partner cried. Sometimes he spanked them, sometimes not, it depended on his mood. That was it.

Mello’s gloved hands held on Rod’s hips, allowing the man to take advantage of his poor mouth, as if he was telling him he got pleasure from it, too. Fact was he hated it. 

Mello had sworn to himself to not fall that low again. He had done it to get money to survive. He had done it in exchange for false papers. He had done it to blackmail someone. Now he was doing it once more to gain an ally. Mello knew well that this wasn’t the only way, he was a genius, or at least they had told him so. But sometimes, the fastest way is the easiest one, and Mello knew very well how weak men were when it came to carnal pleasures. He had no time to waste.

“Turn around now,” Rod stopped moving and patted Mello’s cheek. If on the one hand Mello was glad that Rod stopped abusing his mouth, because he felt his jaw falling apart any moment, he also knew that his ass wouldn’t be grateful at all. 

Mello nodded and got up, he took the small bottle of lube and handed it to Rod. Somehow his entire mind had shut down, it was as if he wasn’t there anymore. He lowered on his knees in front of the mirror, undid the zipper of the uniform trousers and lowered them, presenting his pale ass to Rod. He looked at him through the mirror as the man got on his knees behind him, squeezed some lube on his fingers and pushed two into Mello’s tight rear. His other hand grasped the boy’s neck and made him bend forwards. 

“Ngh,” Mello groaned of pain, been far too long since he had had sex. 

Rod briefly fingered him and then positioned his huge cock in front of Mello’s tight entrance. “Cry for daddy,” Rod chuckled and shoved his prick into Mello’s ass, again a pained noise escaped the boy’s throat. The man started fucking him hard and merciless, and Mello cried for the pain, just as Rod had demanded.

Mello felt like he was getting torn apart. He felt like the cock into him was going to pierce a hole through his stomach. 

Mello looked at his own reflection in the mirror, the dark make-up around his eyes had already smudged, his hair was messy and dishevelled, God he hated it when people touched his hair. He hated in general when people touched him, they were all disgusting. The only touch he was longing for he couldn’t have, Mello closed briefly his eyes and recalled the image of the ginger-haired boy he still loved so much, he remembered every single freckle on his ivory skin, the speckle pattern in his ocean blue eyes. _ I will come back. _

“Look at me, kid,” Rod shoved his cock deep into Mello’s ass, and Mello almost collapsed under Rod’s weight if it wasn’t for the man holding him by his hips. 

Mello opened his eyes and stared at Rod through the mirror. He could do it, he wasn’t weak. Thinking of Matt made him strong. His icy eyes watched the man who was fucking him from behind, perceived the cruelty that ran through his veins, but still, there was something different about the other times he’d sold his body for money or favours. This time Mello didn’t feel out of place, he could feel a sort of bond growing between them two. 

“Spank me, daddy.” Mello grinned impish and Rod’s face lit up from lust. His enormous hand raised and then lowered brutally on Mello’s buttock, the boy flinched from pain. The burning sensation on his skin told him he’d have an ugly bruise from this.

“You’re a bad kid, aren’t you.” Rod chuckled and pulled Mello’s hips back towards him, hammered his ass with his huge cock. Deep, hard, fast. Mello focused on the music in the background.

Again, Mello bit down on his lower lip and hot tears rolled down his cheeks. His fingers felt the rosary through the uniform jacket. “Yes, very bad,” Mello longed for more pain, carved for more punishment.

It was many smacks later, countless tears had already wetted the rug under him, Mello felt every inch of his body aching, and it felt fucking good. His ass and thighs were already purple from the spanking, his knees already bruised from the brutality they had to endure. Rod was stronger and rougher than Mello had feared. Alone the grasp of his fingers on his sides caused his sensitive, pale skin to bruise. But Mello could go through this, he had to.

Rod paced up his rhythm and thrust his cock harder into the blonde’s abused hole, released a feral growl as he came into the condom. He pulled out and disposed the used condom, and let Mello there on the floor, gasping for air as if he had held his breath for all this time. It was over.

Mello remained there as Rod got up and went into the private bathroom to take a shower. The mobster acted as if everything belonged to him, and well, it was like that. Slowly, the blonde sat up, turned around to look at all the bruises on his backside. _ Kurva _, he cursed and tried to stand up, but his knees were still unstable. Mello looked at his own pathetic figure in the mirror, he couldn’t even cry because of how much he was disgusted by himself. He didn't even pity himself anymore.

Rod came out of the bathroom and lay down on the bed, lit up a cigarette. Mello was sitting on the bed, back facing him, busy cutting a line of coke with trembling hands. 

“Whaddya doing, kid?” Mello didn’t answer and Rod put the cigarette between his lips as he leaned forwards to reach for his trousers. “Don’t snuff that cheap shit.”

“Hm?” Mello turned around and Rod handed him a small metal box. 

“Cut two rails for me too,” Rod leaned against the headboard and closed his eyes, relaxed while smoking the cigarette.

Mello nodded and did as Rod had asked him to, he put his own stuff away and opened the case. While cutting the drug, Mello noticed there was a difference between the two powders, so this was the legendary good stuff, not the cheap one he was used to getting for his money. 

Mello passed the mirror to Rod, who used a gold-plated straw to snort up his part. The blonde watched his sugar daddy closer, noticed the gold chain dangling from his neck, the small diamond earrings adorning his ears. The tiger’s eyes and gold ring on his pinky finger was from Cartier, Mello recognised the design, and the expensive watch on Rod’s wrist was by George Daniel. 

At that moment Mello knew he wanted to be like him. He wasn’t jealous but full of admiration. Money meant power but also stability and safety. If he was loaded he could offer a decent life to the boy he loved so much. 

“What is it, kid?” Rod noticed Mello’s crazy stare as he handed him back the mirror. 

Mello used a rolled-up dollar bill to snuff the drug, then he put the mirror away and rubbed his nose. “I want to work with you,” he eyed Rod and snapped a piece of chocolate.

“Do you know whom you’re talking to?” Rod laughed amused, wondering what the boy wanted from him.

“I know very well to who I’m talking,” Mello straightened his position to seem bolder in front of the mafia boss. “You’re Rod Ross,” the blonde told the mobster everything he knew about him. Rod was quite surprised from the amount of information the boy had gathered about him, but of course he tried to play it down. 

“You’ve watched way too many mafia movies,” the man got up from the bed and reached for his clothes. Mello watched him while he was getting dressed, as Rod was done he lit up another cigarette. Again, he looked at the kid who was stubbornly staring at him while eating that damn chocolate. He watched him carefully this time, he was different from the others, there was something dark in his eyes. “Who are you?” Rod frowned, a little alarmed. If the kid knew that much meant he was either a spy or working for the goddamn Feds.

“My name is Mello. I’m one of the genius orphans raised in Wammy’s house. I’m one of L’s successors.” Rod didn’t say anything and listened closely. “I know you’re hiding from Kira. My goal is to take down Kira. It would be to our mutual advantage if we work together.”

Rod raised a slender eyebrow. “Why don’t you work with L’s men?”

“The current L is an imposter. I think L and Kira are de facto one and the same person. I want to expose him and kill him. I don’t care what it takes to catch him. I want him dead.” Mello closed his hand to a fist, madness sparked in his icy eyes.

“The current L is a fake?” Rod rubbed the short beard on his chin and thought about Mello’s words. “The enemy of my enemy is my ally.” The mobster chuckled, “prove yourself worthy, and we can talk about a cooperation.”

“How?”

“Dimas Martinez. He is the leader of a rival gang and he’s getting in my way. I want his head.” 

Mello fired up a cigarette. “Any information?”

“I don’t know his real name, nor his face. He should be in Vegas right now, but I don’t know any more. He’s like a fucking rat hiding in the sewer.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to find him?” Mello snapped and felt like he was being taken for a fool.

“You said you’re a genius,” Rod reached for his wallet and started counting the bills. “Find him and we can work together. Until then, I’ll have fun with you.” Rod handed Mello a good amount of dollar bills and messed up his hair, almost in a fatherly way. “I’ll see you next Wednesday.”

Mello nodded and counted the money as soon as Rod had left the room. Two thousand bucks for a fuck. Well.

+++

It took Mello three weeks to track down Martinez. Rod was right, he was nearly impossible to find, his ability to erase his traces was excellent. Still, Mello could find bits and pieces, but he couldn't picture out the whole situation.

It was a pleasant surprise to find out Martinez was the ugly balding daddy that revered him at the club. It happened by accident, after weeks of sleepless days, way too much cocaine and way too less food, too much caffeine and not enough rest. Over the years Mello had developed the ability of reading lips, and it was a casualty he caught one of the goons talking to the boss, whispering his name. A faux pas with fatal consequences.

As dom, Mello was the one who usually picked his clients to give them private sessions. He had avoided Martinez so far, he was too ugly for Mello's taste and looked like he lacked of personal hygiene. A disgusting old fucker. That night though, Mello invited him to his private room. He'd been right about men getting weak for carnal pleasure and lowering their guard. Martinez wanted to be tied up and blindfolded. He wanted that Mello put clamps on his nipples and squeezed his balls until he came. Soft stuff indeed but the blonde had other plans for him.

Cocaine and ambition had clouded Mello's and freed him from his qualms. He tied him up and tortured him, Mello only needed to rip off two fingernails to have him talking. Of course Martinez wasn't his real name. He was good at hiding like a rat, but surely he hadn’t an iron will. It wasn't the first time Mello did something despicable. The same night he prayed the Rosary seven times.

+++

The fourth Wednesday arrived and this time Rod wanted him standing naked against the mirror. Rod hooked his arm behind Mello’s knee and lifted him like a child, he was so skinny, way too androgynous to look like a young man. 

Again, Rod rammed his monstrous cock into Mello's tight ass, he was trapped between Rod's smothering body and the ice-cold mirror. Rod's body temperature was very high, a factor Mello didn't complain about, he himself felt constantly freezing. Drops of sweat rolled from Rod's bald head over his face and dropped on Mello's back. 

Tears mixed with black liner and mascara soiled the polished mirror, Mello felt like he was going to die of asphyxiation every moment. He tried to hold on the neat surface, but his blackened fingernails couldn't dig into the glass. 

Mello curled his toes as Rod's cock fucked him without mercy. It had taken him almost a whole week to recover from their last fuck. Rod had been particularly nervous that day and needed to vent off, resulting way more brutal than usual. This time was slightly better but still, it hurt like hell. Mello licked his chapped lips as Rod kept thrusting into him, deep and hard, and he still didn't know how he could survive this bestiality. 

Rod sank his teeth in the soft skin of his neck as if he was marking him, as if even his body belonged to him. But Mello didn't hate him. Strangely, he aimed for respect from the tall mobster. He had heard so many things about the evil Rod Ross, but paradoxically, Mello felt safe in the presence of this man. It didn't matter that he was physically hurting him. He felt like the pain he had to endure was a way to prove himself worthy, a way of being punished for being a bad person. _ More _ , Mello closed his eyes, _ gimme more. _

As always, as soon as they were done fucking, Rod went in the bathroom to take a shower. This time Mello had even bled, his red stained, trembling fingers reached for some tissues to clean his ass and thighs. It didn’t matter to him, his mind was already looking up to the future.

Rod came back to the bedroom where Mello had prepared two lines of cocaine and a shot of tequila for him. Rod had gotten into the habit of staying there a little while longer after they had sex. 

They used to talk. It looked like Rod was testing his intelligence, and he seemed quite pleased to not having to deal with a complete idiot. And Mello started feeling closer to that man, for reasons unknown. Maybe because, apart from sex, Rod was the first who treated him like a decent person since he had left Wammy's. Rod listened to him, he didn't insult him or made fun of his apparently girly appearance. Mello even dared to say Rod acted almost fatherly towards him, because he truly felt like Rod was already taking him under his protective wing. At least, he was more fatherly than his real father had used to be. 

Mello put on some casual clothes, skinny jeans and a random bandshirt, and fired up a cigarette. The boy couldn't contain himself any longer, he wanted to tell Rod about his achievement. He wondered if the boss would be proud of him. It was so long since someone had told him _ good job Mello _. 

The boy waited patiently until the mafia boss snorted the coke and laid on the bed, resting his back against the headboard, he looked relaxed and satisfied. 

“Rod,” Mello took a deep drag. “Got something for you.”

Rod raised one eyebrow and reached for the luxury Zippo lighter on the nightstand. “So?” He lit up a cigarette, too. “Whaddya got so far?”

Mello chuckled evilly and Rod eyed him carefully. There was a spark of madness in those ice blue irises. Rod could not but like the kid.

The blonde threw his long legs out of the bed and got up. Slowly and sensually like a cat, he walked towards the small fridge he had there in his room. It was old and made lots of noise, and a case of beer hardly fitted in it, but this was all the Insomnia had to offer. 

Mello couldn’t wait to leave behind this bloody life. He wanted power and money, he wanted a big car and luxury clothes, he wanted respect and to be feared. Most of all though, he wanted his Matt back.

Mello put on a pair of latex gloves, which caused Rod to chuckle. “I’m not into anal fisting,” he sniggered. “Even if your hand is so tiny.”

“Oh no,” Mello smirked and opened the small fridge. “I’ve always wanted to try that on some asshole, but _ this _is far better.” He got on his knees and pulled out a styrofoam container. 

Rod got up and stood next to Mello while he opened the container. Inside was a black bag and Rod already knew what it was hiding. “Put it away," he commanded after taking a quick glimpse on its content.

Mello obeyed and closed the container. “I’ve his personal belongings if you don’t believe me. I’ve tortured him. Just a little.” The blonde got up and extinguished the cigarette in the ashtray. “He spilled his guts.”

“Where’s the rest?”

“Lorenzi Park. In the pond,” Mello shrugged nonchalantly and looked at Rod. “What?” 

“When I told you I want his head I didn’t mean it literally,” the boss smirked.

“Well, but it’s the result that counts, no?” Mello swallowed nervously and Rod agreed with a nod of his head.

“How did you find him?”

"I've told you, I'm a former Wammy's. Tracking him down was easier than I thought." Mello explained to him while thinking back at the years spent in the goddamn orphanage in Winchester. If he was honest he didn't miss it at all. He just missed one person, the introverted boy who had taught him so many things about hacking. _ God if he was that good two years ago, how good is he now, _ Mello wondered. "It wasn't a smart move to hang out every night in one of your clubs but I suppose he didn't know about." Mello took off the gloves and reached for another cigarette, his fingers played with it.

“I bet he knew. He wanted to get in my way. Luckily he thought with his cock, just as I suspected.” Rod gave Mello fire. “You sure you haven’t left any traces? Hair, fingerprints…”

“Uh-huh,” Mello nodded and inhaled a drag of nicotine. “We’ve been taught well at Wammy’s,” he winked. "I don't officially exist. I don’t even have a name." 

“Excellent,” Rod got up and put on his clothes. “Grab your stuff, you’re leaving.”

“W-what?” Mello choked on the smoke and coughed. “And the head?”

“Myla can deal with it. We’ve never been here.”

Mello gathered all his stuff in no time, he eliminated the cigarette stubs and removed the used towels and bed linen to burn them in a second moment. He didn’t have many belongings. All he owned fitted in a big travel bag, and ten minutes later he was ready to leave.

Rod put his arm protectively around his newly acquired protégé. “Welcome to the family, Mello.” 

Mello smirked proud as Rod called him by his name for the first time. He was happy, after a long time he finally felt he had achieved something. “I’m glad about us working together.”

Rod led him outside the Insomnia and got on a huge black Bentley. Mello took place on the passenger’s seat. “You have to work hard.” Rod threw his cigarette case at the boy and he lit up two cigs, passing one to his new boss. “You have to learn to fire a gun. You have to learn to fight. You have to gain weight and become stronger, I don’t want any pussies working for me.”

“Yes, boss.”

“Good,” Rod started the powerful engine, the car purred, Mello was already excited. “Now tell me everything you know about Kira.”

Mello grinned and took a huge drag, felt the nicotine burning his lungs. He made it.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading 
> 
> jk-iconoclast.tumblr.com


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